


Adventure

by Agent_Pumpkin01



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: College AU, Gay Sex, Highschool AU, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 10:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7529026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Pumpkin01/pseuds/Agent_Pumpkin01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James has always been deceptive - Joe just hasn't fallen for it until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> College AU deliciousness.

He never thought he’d be in this position. On first instance, it’d seemed a good idea to go camping with the other, really get away from the university campus that seemed to dominate his life with its deadlines, but now he’s uncertain. He doesn’t really know how to communicate with people properly, has never really felt the need to on account of not wanting to be around them. James is different. James is exciting. James appears intelligent, even if he’s shit-faced dumb. He can accept that. Maybe he’s the same way.

“Come help me collect firewood, man,” James speaks up once he’s pitched his tent, watching the clouds roll overhead. They’re not indicative of a storm, just rain, and so Joe sighs and follows silently, all but tempted to grab at his wrist so as not to trip in the darkness. He doesn’t, sucks it up and remains in the other student’s shadow whilst he fishes his torch out of the duffel bag strung over his shoulder and turns it on before tossing the bag back towards the fire. A brief path of light is illuminated in front of them, sending them further into the woods.

“We have it,” Joe thinks to say after the fact, squinting hard into the dark. His intense gaze is interrupted by a flick to his forehead, a sharp grunt escaping his mouth as he looks more firmly at the perpetrator. Murray is smirking.

“Then let’s get more.”

Time is spent walking, scouting, picking up and carrying, as if they were better placed in a warehouse than a forest. Idle conversation is maintained, though Joe wants little part in it. Why he’d chosen to go on this outing, really drive himself insane with one-on-one company with a boy he found questionable in terms of likeability was beyond him. He’s smooth, friendly, has a cute laugh, but he’s far too challenging for the likes of him. James Murray likes to argue. Joe Gatto does not.

“Hey, grab that big piece over there. It’s like a log or something!” James exclaims, shining his torch light in the direction he wants Joe to go. Something about the way his blue shirt catches the light has him staring at his back, watching the muscle move as he collects the wood. Murray swallows hard, eyes clouding over with a look of concentration. “…could keep us goin’ for a while…” he muses, quieter than before, eyes accidentally sliding down to take in the pert form of the other boy’s ass. For such a grump, Joe Gatto has a nice body, one he wouldn’t mind touching. It’s not so much ‘gay’ as it is ‘a service’, reasons Murray. “You got it?”

“I think so,” Joe grunts, hefting the heavy log into his arms. It’s big all right, will feed the fire back at their base camp just fine, but he neglects to feel proud about it. Why would he? It’s not like the trip amounts of anything more than a sly get-away for the weekend. That is until he turns, feels James closer than before. “Jesus Christ,” he wheezes quietly. “You– get out of my way, idiot.”

He begins to move to get past, to make their way back to camp, but the other turns and grabs lightly at his shirt. Joe thinks to go into overdrive, yank himself away and bare teeth in the form of a snarl, like a wild animal being provoked, but he doesn’t, can’t bring himself to. Instead he remains stock-still, tries not to focus on the warmth of Murray’s hand as he flattens it slowly against his back upon tugging him to him. The log is taken, put down at their feet, before he advances. Gatto, upon instinct, backs up, as if worried he’s going to be beaten; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fallen for such a mistake, people luring him out with the promise of kindness or ‘friendship’ before laying into him like it was their job. Therefore, in the dead of night, in the middle of the fucking woods, he does his best to prepare for the worst.

“Ever think about doing it in the woods?”

The question has Joe spluttering on the breath he takes, back pressing more tightly against the tree. “D–Don’t be weird, James. Let’s go.”

A giggle escapes James’ lips before he presses them to Joe’s, feels the other boy squirming beneath him; stills him with a palm to his chest, exhaling against his mouth as he pulls away as far as his nose and waits. Joe could push him away, could wrench himself free from his gentle grip, could very well make his way home if he so wanted to.

He doesn’t.

Murr decides to proceed, bending to drop his wood to the ground before he rights himself against the boy’s solid body once more. He shines the light upwards to see Gatto’s face, is stunned by him knocking the torch out of his hand as the light hits his eyes far too brightly. Hands settle on either side of his waist, lips pressing against his once more. “Never thought about it…?”

The young man is silent, breath caught in his throat. What the fuck is going on? They’re supposed to be camping, not making out– has making out ever been on his agenda? Is this even making out? They’ve but shared a single kiss and he hadn’t done anything about it.

“God, Joe,” he breathes, mouth trailing to his neck and sucking on the skin where his pulse thumps. The essence of life beneath his lips has the young man shivering, hands moving to slowly fumble with buttons on his shirt. So far, he hasn’t been poorly received, the misanthrope weakening as soon as lips had touched his neck. “…where’s your sense of adventure?”

Joe stops him from un-tucking his shirt from his pants, catches his eye. “We’re outside.”

“Uh, yeah– who’s gonna catch us?”

“Whatever– you’re not undressing me.”

Murr relents, sweeps aside the fabric he’d been allowed to part before leaning down and kissing Joe’s chest. The skin is warm, soft, everything he’d vaguely pictured it would be. The boy tastes delightful too, tongue trailing down his sternum before circling a nipple and latching on. The warm wetness of Murr’s mouth has Joe exhaling softly, a hand coming to the back of his head. Why he’s inviting him closer, arching into the touch, is beyond him - because it feels good? Because he’s painfully human, needs the release? Because he likes James which, for him, is HUGE? The fact of the matter is, he certainly doesn’t stop it.

When a hand comes to nurse the heat pooling in his groin, Gatto very nearly moans. Alas, it is caged behind grit teeth, a hand smoothing down Murr’s back until he reaches his belt. It’s undone, tugged free with a firm rip of leather before it’s dropped into dead leaves. A hand works past material, much to Murr’s surprise, a gasp parting his lips against Joe’s other nipple before his tongue comes to lavish it with attention. Joe remains silent. James makes it his goal to hear him by the end of the exchange.

“A–Ah, Joe…” he murmurs as he feels the young man’s hand against the hardening length in his underwear, fingers coiling around flesh and stroking slowly. It’s as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, even though he knows for a fact that he’s never done it before. That much has him furiously trying to keep up, attempting to tug his pants down until Joe wraps his free hand around his wrist.

“What did I say? You’re not undressing me,” Joe murmurs, nose touching Murr’s as he looks up, a pleading glint to his eyes that wasn’t there before. He groans.

“Joe, please, I– I wanna fuck you. I can’t do that wi–”

“You’re not fucking me. Either stroke my cock or get off me.”

The firmness with which he’s met with should have turned him off, hurt him even, but it only fans the flame in his stomach into overdrive. God, Joe’s attitude may be unpleasant, unfriendly, but he’s powerless to stop the dizzying effect it has on his senses. That harsh reprimand, that biting tone… it has him leaning in, kissing him hard as a hand fishes for his hardening shaft and wraps around it firmly, greedily, hoping to please him. He is determined to bring this young man to orgasm if it’s the last thing he does.

When Joe is certain Murr has relented in his attempts to take his clothes off, his free hand trails from his wrist to his shoulder, hand then splaying across his back and pushing him closer. Murr all but mewls at the shared body heat, even more so when the hand wraps firmly around his neck and guides him in for another kiss. Lips part, tongues touch and Joe finds he isn’t half as turned off by it as he thought he would be. There had been a time - and by ‘a time’ he means but a few hours ago when this had never been a part of his evening - that he considered the swapping of saliva to be something shudder-worthy. He’d experienced a couple of kisses, sure, but they’d been nothing on this level, heat beginning to pool in his stomach.

“Joe,” he gasps, hand moving a mile a minute around his friend’s hard length. “That– feels so fucking good.”

“Hm.” Is all Joe says, moving his head to kiss at his neck, and the cold way with which he’s dealt with leaves Murr desperate for more. He has no clue what he’s doing, has never been in a position so personal, but the rate at which Murray squirms and bucks and moans has him gaining an inkling of confidence; whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it right. He continues, presses his face further into skin in the hopes of being able to taste more.

“I’m sur–surprised you agreed t-to this,” the boy hefts, feeling Joe twitch in his palm. He’s close, he can tell, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get something from him. His grip tightens, jerks quicker, head tipping back as he feels the scrape of teeth against his throat. Hips buck, frustrated growl passing his lips when his hips touch denim rather than flesh. “I’m– Joe, I’m gonna–”

“Do it,” he interrupts huskily, mouth by his ear. No sooner has he said it does Murray tip his head back, panting hard as he cums in his hand, feels his world spiralling out of control as thick ropes of euphoria stain his friend’s digits. There’s a high-pitched quality to the way he exhales, as if locked in a permanent silent scream for as long as his pleasure lasts. Joe closes his eyes, leans his head back against the tree he’d been ‘pinned’ to back at the beginning and breathes a little harder. He’s close, teetering on the edge… he just can’t quite tip over it yet.

With a sudden grunt, he grabs at one side of Murr’s collar, forces him close. An arm locks around his neck, hand splayed against his head as his friend’s begins to gain steady rhythm around his pulsating member once more. He’s so close he can all but taste it.

“Ahh… you gonna cum, Joey?” James mouths against his ear, teeth latching onto his lobe and tugging. To say this is more than he’d expected from their little trip into the woods… would be the truth, though not in the way most would suspect. Calculation takes over, determined to make the boy feel so good he longs for another round. “Mm… p-please cum for me… please? Mmf, I-I want it so bad, Joey, and I know you do too…”

A delicate kiss is pressed to the soft spot beneath his ear, eyes slowly slipping closed as he feels his friend’s body tense before a thick stream of cum escapes him. The distinct syllables ‘give me something you fuck’ against his the shell of his ear have Joe surprisingly weak, a lone, but thick, groan escaping the confines of his throat as he rides out his high with the help of his friend’s hand still slowly stroking him.

Finished, the student leans back against the tree and breathes heavily in an attempt to gather breath back, stunned to hell and back when Murray pulls back to kiss him. The exchange is done… so why does he continue? And more curiously, why does he kiss him back, let his tongue dip into his mouth and savour the taste of him before he pulls away again, a thin string of saliva connecting their lips. He thinks to complain, shove the other away, but all he does is stare, breathing hard and hoping that Murr doesn’t laugh at him for looking so shell-shocked. Even the darkness doesn’t smother that much surprise. Murr looks caught between a chuckle and a grunt, leaning back in to kiss him briefly once more.

“Let’s head back,” Joe says quietly, arranging himself back into his pants before collecting the wood he’d put down. He’s desperate to cave in for the night, lay back in his sleeping bag in the tent they share and think about what they’ve done. He only pauses when he notices Murr baring teeth in the form of a truly wicked grin. “…what’s that look f–” He pauses, and then it hits him like a stack of bricks, hurling the wood to the side of him. “…we never needed wood did we, you fucker.”

James shrugs, pockets his hands innocently and, after collecting both his belt and his torch, begins to make his way back to their camp site, leaving Joe to follow uselessly in his wake. There’s a moment in which Joe thinks to curse him out for he doesn’t even bother taking the wood they’d supposedly come all this way to collect… but decides against it by instead adopting indifference. What a complete, deceptive fucker - and worse was that he’d fallen for it, let it happen.

When they reach the tent, Joe crawls straight into it. Dear God, he’s so embarrassed, wants to do nothing but melt into the realm of sleep and forget about everything he’d allowed to happen. What had even happened? One moment they’d been collecting wood, the next he’d had his hands on a different kind of wood– what the hell had he gotten himself into?

Joe doesn’t look at Murr when he crawls into the tent, smirking at him, simply averts his gaze and stares hard at the ‘ceiling’ ahead of him. A hand touches his face but he perseveres, gazing intently at orange and watching the night consume the innards of the tent.

He’s stunned by the torch hitting his eyes, an arm thrown in front of his face to block it. “Argh! Fuck, James– turn that shit off!”

“So you are acknowledging me. Cool,” he purrs, before he pulls his sleeping bag right beside him… and lays atop it, throwing a leg over his friend’s quilted body. Joe has a million questions in his head, but only one statement leaves his mouth for he knows what James is thinking:

“You’re not fucking me.”

James sighs, unzips Gatto’s sleeping bag and rolls to hover over him. His upper body brushes his, legs still firmly planted on his own sleeping sack. A feather-light kiss is pressed to Joe’s lips, squinted eyes taking in how softly they close, a gentle sigh against his mouth if ever there was one, before he pulls back and works a hand slowly down his body until he reaches the waistband of his pants.

“C’mon… like I said earlier,” he whispers, mouth touching the delicate point beneath his ear once more. Joe is more vocal about it this time, a soft hum filling the silence of the tent, the sound of the quilt shifting before Murray has worked him out of it fully, body now atop his properly. Murr pulls back, beams playfully at the young man before a smirk lines his lips. “…where’s your sense of adventure?”


End file.
